AJS Untitled Work
by stillthedragon92
Summary: When a stranger visits Halegore and causes quite a disturbance, Regeric and his two closest friends find themselves swept far away from the land they call home and unwantingly thrust into a civil war where one of them may just be the key to victory.
1. The Beginning of an End

Blades clashed. The smell of sweat filled the air. Two men's' hands gripped their swords as they interlocked in a tense duel. Blood slicked their bodies and streaked across the hard marble floor. Their loose white tunics, the fabric stained red in more places than not, hung loosely on their shoulders, both filled with their share of holes. The two stood in a large, circular arena-like room with six tall pillars equally spaced around the outer wall, two matching double doors located on opposite sides of two high arching windows. The high domed ceiling held a giant window of colored bits of glass at its peak, projecting many hues on the fighters below. Beautiful colored tapestries depicting battles that had escaped history books covered the bare walls. The only sound was each dueler's heavy breathing and the clash of steel. The two that fought were not enemies but a teacher and apprentice, the older man trying his hardest to best his young learner. This was not an instructional match, but a duel to the death.

The elder showed looks of horror on his face, but not because he did not hold the advantage, but because all of his Brothers had already fallen to the young apprentice's sword. His fear-filled face was outlined by a thick jaw covered in a short white beard. The matching hair on his head seemed even whiter when contrasted with his tan leathery skin and dark eyes. His single bladed sword matched that of his apprentice, a curved sword of unbreakable metal that never needed sharpened. The elder's blade gleamed, showing a perfect reflection of the movement around it, but the younger's blade showed a slightly darker hue to the metal it was made of. The twin blades moved in similar sword forms as each used thrusts and parries that they both knew very well.

The learner recoiled from a surprisingly strong blow from his opponent's sword. He quickly brought his own sword down towards the elder's side only to be blocked. With a twist of his sword, the learner moved the elder's blade to the side and jabbed at his left leg, but once again his sword clanked off the other. The learner's blade moved in an upward movement to find his opponent's head but it was not there and he quickly flipped his sword to his back to defend the incoming slice.

As the stalemate continued, the look of determination on the learner's face hardened. He had made it this far and was not about to give up now. His thick brow creased and his squinted green eyes looked for a hole in his teacher's defenses. His short, brown hair circled around the sides and back of his head under longer hair that he kept out of his eyes with a thin leather cord. Beads of sweat and blood dripped off the tip of his pointed nose and off the bottom of his shaven chin. Hatred filled his body as he was driven by the bloodlust that pulsed through his entire being. The battle drew on with neither gaining the upper hand.

"What have you done to my Brothers?" the elder finally spoke through gritted teeth.

Images flashed through the apprentice's head. A severed head. A melted corpse. An exploded skull. He was not ashamed of what he had done. More images now; he saw many other helpless victims who met death with the looks of surprise still carved upon their faces. He felt little remorse for those who stood in his way. _When pride is allied with hostility, all reason is denied. _He must do what was needed to complete his final plan. One man stood in the way of him fulfilling the prophecy. No, _his_ prophecy! Something he had kept secret for too long. Something he had been told a long time ago.

"You would not understand. I must do this!" he answered back, careful not to lose his concentration. He had to end this, it was taking too long. He narrowed his focus and locked blades with his master. Each drew in towards each other forcing themselves closer, blades still pressed together. Their bodies neared each other's until their foreheads almost touched. Each stared deeper into each other's eyes, a look of disgust covering both their faces.

Finally the elder spoke, "Then you truly are lost," a look of pure sadness appearing on his face, "It does not end as I thought it would." The younger's face hardened until it could have been carved from stone. As they used what seemed to be the last of their strength to push each other's swords away, both stumbled back a few paces. The elder hunched over, hands on his knees, as to not waste his energy standing, panting as he gulped breaths of air. But as he peered up, he saw his apprentice standing, arms raised outstretched with his sword in one hand above his head. He wore a smirk as he muttered something that was unintelligible to his elder.

All six pillars shattered at once as if made of the most fragile glass. Tiny shrapnel flew in every direction as the elder threw his open hands up to protect his face, sword clattering to the floor. Pieces of rock pelted him from every side, seeming to pierce his flesh. He thrashed as his whole body was racked with pain from the explosion. He dropped to his knees as his last unstained parts of his clothing became drenched with blood. The crimson liquid poured from his whole body as if all of his sweat had been replaced with blood. He tried to fight it as he finally slumped to the floor in too much physical pain to go on. His body twitched as his breath came in short liquid wheezes. He heard nothing as the last bit of rubble settled and he used his last efforts to tilt his head to see what had become of his apprentice.

He still stood with his arms raised as if he had never been touched. Upon closer looks, it seemed as if he was surrounded by an invisible barrier; not one piece of rock lay within three paces of his feet. The younger's face was unchanged as he lifted it toward the sky. The elder followed his glare, in time to see the colored glass ceiling, in a million pieces, plummeting toward where he lay. His hoarse yell was barely distinguishable over the deep laugh of the other man. His mouth still curved upward in that evil grin. He was not finished yet, this was only the beginning.


	2. Between the Pines

Regeric sucked his thumb easing the pain of the cut. He had nicked himself carving a floral design on a stick, which was now covered in little specks of crimson as if it had the spotted fever. He rudely thrust the piece of wood into his pocket, put his knife away, and threw his legs up on the crudely built table in the center of the room. He leaned his wooden chain back on two legs as he bowed his head, letting out a heavy sigh.

He was a young boy nearing the age of adulthood. His sandy blond hair fell to about his neck and his physical features were considered quite beautiful among the young women. He had dark green eyes and his chin showed a bit of stubble. He wore dirty work clothes that sent off an odor of horses and sweat. He had just finished up his daily chores and was taking a well deserved rest.

He sat in the common room of an inn. Many other tables, identical to the one he sat at, filled the middle of the room. Small wooden booths lined a large stone wall under a row of high windows that cast the last of the sun's light onto the opposite wall of doors which led to the kitchens, a water-closet, and in the far corner down a long hallway, a large bedroom. A stairwell that led tenants to their rooms on the second floor was along the back wall that bordered the alley. The floor looked as if it had been rudely swept, with bits of dust and mud gathered under the table legs and where the floor met the walls. Forgotten spider webs hung from dark wooden beams on the high ceiling above. A large stone fireplace stood empty against the stairs and a door to the basement near the back of the room, swept clean of ashes. The room always smelled of ale, roasted meat, and smoke. The Golden Eagle Inn was where Regeric called home.

Muffled sounds of clanking dishes and muted talking came from the kitchens as Regeric raised his head a while later. The double doors to the kitchen swung wide as one of the hired serving girls entered and walked into common room. She walked toward Regeric as a look of confusion appeared on his face. He was the only one in the room and he couldn't remember calling for anything. She brushed past him, a troubling look on her face, as she strode across the room. He looked over his shoulder and saw a man sitting in the far booth against the wall. He did not recognize him, much less seen him enter the inn, but the same went for most of the men that stayed at the inn. The man hunched over a stack of small papers and an ink well, tracing the whorls in the wood atop the table with the feather on the end of his pen, quickly scanning the papers. A well-worn travelers cloak draped around his shoulders, his arms not in the sleeves, but with the hood up. He wore wool pants and heavy black boots laced to the knee which he tapped against the stone floor. Long gray hair with flecks of black hung down to his bearded cheeks as striking blue eyes peered out from the folds of his hood. He acknowledged the serving girl as she placed the mug on table with a small nod of his head and the sliding of a couple copper pennies across the table. The girl swept up the pennies into her apron and hurried back across the room, the same troublesome look carved on her face, passing Regeric as she disappeared back into the kitchens. The din from the kitchen quieted as the doors swung closed behind her.

Regeric continued to look over his shoulder at the man in the booth. He couldn't help but notice something different about him. The way he sat looked no different than any other traveling sailor or visiting farmer but something regal shown around him, as if he set off some sort of royal essence.

The man raised his head and looked in Regeric's direction as if he had just noticed him sitting there. Regeric immediately turned his look away, hiding his head in his shoulders to avoid the man's glare. The second that Regeric had looked the man in the eyes sent chills deep into his marrow. The man's eyes had seemed to bore straight through Regeric's head and onto the walls behind him. As he sat there, he could feel the man's icy eyes peering deep into the back of his head. When his chills subsided, Regeric couldn't help but feel drawn to look back at the man again. He slowly swung his head back over his shoulder to get another glimpse of the man. He still sat there but he was hurriedly stuffing a handful of parchment into his cloak as his eyes worriedly scanned the entire common room seemingly to have forgotten that Regeric still sat at a table in the middle of the room. Regeric opened his mouth to ask the man if he needed an extra light to better see his papers, but he didn't have time to speak.

The giant oak door in the front of the inn swung open crashing into the wall behind it rattling all the chairs and tables, a warm gust of spring air sweeping in through the open door. Both Regeric and the man in the booth nearly jumped out of their seats, their heads nearly brushing the ceiling. The disheveled man in the booth gathered his cloak around him as he scooted further into the bench he sat on, trying to pull his hood tighter around his head. Regeric let out a sigh of relief when he recognized the two that stood in the doorway as his father and the serving girl that had brought the man his ale earlier, peering around his father's shoulder, wringing her hands in her soiled apron.

Gerrin Haeres filled the doorframe with his burly frame, one muscular arm holding the serving girl back behind him; the other held the door firm against the wall. The little light from the candles that lit the room spilled out into the dark street and gave the top of Gerrin's bald head a dull gleam. He wore a large black mustache that grew around his mouth joining with more facial hair on his chin. A large crooked nose protruded between amber colored eyes, under two large bushy eyebrows. His apron was folded in half and tied around his ever growing midriff, the result of owning an inn.

Gerrin's eyes shot straight to the man in the booth as his forehead furrowed in a look of frustration. He strode into the room and approached the man in the booth, the oak door slamming shut behind him. Regeric straightened in his chair as the serving girl scuttled back into the kitchens. Gerrin waited until the door to the kitchen swung shut before he began to speak to the man in the booth, who slumped deeper into his seat, probably wishing he could disappear right through the floor.

"This is the last time I will tell you Truk, you are not welcome at The Golden Eagle! You need to leave now and not a moment later." his father's voice boomed in the empty room and Regeric stared intently at the scene. He had never seen the man in the inn before, but assumed that this was not the first time his father had caught Truk in his inn, even though Regeric had never seen him around these parts until tonight.

"I am sorry Master Haeres, your inn provides the quiet I need" Truk's voice sounded like boots stomping wet leather, but it never wavered, "But if it suits you I will leave as you request." Truk's tone seemed genuine; however telling an innkeeper their establishment was quiet was not a compliment. Truk's subtle comment had been implying that The Dancing Lark, another inn in town, often gathered most of the villages business, thanks to the scantily clad serving girls that worked there.

"And I will not let you off so easily if I see you around these parts again." Gerrin stepped aside, clearing Truk's exit from the booth. He motioned to the door adding seriousness to his words.

Truk silently got to his feet and slinked from the booth towards the door. His eyes flickered back and forth until he reached the door. As Truk grabbed the door handle he froze for an instant and then threw his head around and stared back into the room his eyes settling on Regeric. Regeric looked back at Truk and as their eyes met he could feel his blood being turned to ice while his skin burned so hot he felt like he was standing in a blacksmith's furnace. He sat rigid in his chair as Truk's blue eyes stared deep into his. Neither of them moved, not even an eyelid, as if the first who did would meet Death itself. Out of the corner of his eye  
Regeric could see a confused look appeared on his father's face, his eyes shifting between Regeric and Truk while both glared at each other as if time was frozen between only the two of them. Regeric tried to speak, to break the silence, but he felt as if he had a mouthful of wool.

It seemed an eternity until Truk broke his gaze, his eyelids flickering as he scrubbed his forehead. With a quick glance at Gerrin, a look of anger quickly spreading across his face, Truk turned the door handle and pulled it open just enough to slip through, dragging the door closed behind him and securing it with a small click.

Regeric shrugged off a small shiver and rubbed his arms as he turned to his dad, who now paced up and down the row of booths, a hand cupped over his mouth. He stood up and walked over to his father resting a hand on his shoulder. Gerrin shook his head and stopped at one of the booths motioning for Regeric to sit. He sat down across from his father, setting his elbows on the table.

"Dad, what happened ba…" Regeric was interrupted as his dad slid his arms across the table and placed his hands on his own. His mouth still felt dry from the strange encounter with Truk. His head felt like a frozen pool of plum pudding. His father spoke to him, seriousness coating his words.

"Son, that man that was just in here had been causing trouble across the countryside. Just the other day Mistress Lathan spoke of him suspiciously going door to door often times entering a house unwelcomed, and I have heard this spoken by more than one mouth than hers. There is something about him that just doesn't settle right with me." Regeric felt his father's hands grip tighter on his own. "He is camped north of town and I want you to go nowhere near there for the time being, until I hear word that he has left." Gerrin released his hands from Regeric's and moved back to grip the edge of the table, his elbows in the air. He leaned in closer to his son, "Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Regeric leaned back into his seat letting out a sigh. His head felt clearer now. He wrapped his arms around his chest as if feeling Truk's icy glare once more. "Did you see him look at me though?" Regeric felt as if Truk had never really seen him.

"He gives me the chills as well son," He exited the booth and headed toward the hallway that led to Regeric's and his bedroom. "Just let me know if you see him in here again." He turned away and disappeared down the dark hallway.

Regeric sat, images and thoughts of Truk stirring in his head. Who was this mysterious man? Why had Truk not spoken to him and why did he feel like he was frozen solid whenever he had looked Truk in the eyes_?_ He could not possibly sleep with all of these unanswered questions in his mind. He stayed seated and pondered the evening's events even as he sat in pitch darkness; someone had come to blow the candles out and then left unnoticed. No, sleep would not be easy.

He eventually pulled himself out of his seat and headed back to where his father already lay sleeping. He quietly unlatched the wooden door and entered. With a couple small clicks, he fastened the multitude of locks inside the door. 'You can never be too careful,' his father had always said. 'And you can never have too many locks.'

The bedroom was small with two beds on opposite sides of the back wall and a small nightstand, with a washbasin on top, between them. A large wardrobe stood near the foot of Gerrin's bed and a person sized window was set in the center of the wall opposite the wardrobe, right above Regeric's bed. This window was perfect for Regeric to sneak out of in the middle of the night if needed, without waking his father's deep sleep.

Regeric stripped into his smallclothes and hung his clothes in the wardrobe his feet feeling the warmth of the well worn carpet in the middle of the cold hardwood floor. He scurried under his wool blankets, careful not to make too much unwanted noise, though he doubted his father would hear him over a sound like the sawing of logs emanating from his own sleeping mouth. Regeric folded his hand behind his head and lay staring at the ceiling with thoughts still tumbling in his head.

A tiny tapping noise caught Regeric's ears as tossed on his bed, trying futility to fall asleep. He rolled in his blankets, peering up to the window.

A face, darkened by shadows, appeared on the other side of the panes. Regeric knew there was only one person who would wake him at this hour of the night. After a couple quick glances between the window and his sleeping father, he sat up on his bed, slipped his boots on. He began to make his way to the wardrobe to grab a shirt but the tapping on the window came again. Not wanting to wake his father, Regeric forgot the shirt and unlatched the bottom half of the window above his bed. He slipped through it feet first, landing in the dirt alley; he reached back up to push the window closed. Regeric followed the figure further down the alley, toward the front of the inn, until a soft glow lit up the moonless dark.

As the owner of the lantern pulled it closer to his face, the yellow light lit up his cousin's features. Fitch was Regeric's elder by only a couple months, but they saw each other more as brothers than as cousins and they did most everything together. Fitch wore his black hair short, about the same length as his sizable beard. He had sported the beard before Regeric had even held a razor to his face for the first time. His features were softer than Regeric, and other than their father's being brothers, their average sized noses, angular jaws, and green eyes were the only thing that claimed the two boys as cousins. The two acknowledged each other without speaking a word and continued walking down the trash filled space between The Golden Eagle and Mistress Lathan's seamstress shop. Regeric looked like a ghost in his white smallclothes, striding beside Fitch, who had obviously been out and about tonight, briars and dirt clinging to his clothes and boots.

Regeric and Fitch skirted the stables and exited the mouth of the alley, ready to head off to a safe place to discuss the night escapades. When they stepped out of the alley, they stood on the edge of a large round courtyard, commonly known as The Circle. In the center of The Circle was a small fountain, two women emptying pitchers, which usually held a few small coppers at the end of each day. Regeric was sure that it had already been picked clean soon after dusk by a couple of kids or a haggard beggar like it had every night before. The Circle lay in the middle of a bustling little village called Halegore, abandoned now in the dark of night. The small town of Halegore was one of the few villages on an island called Athadia. Each of the five villages had their own taverns, inns, and infirmary. It just so happened that his father owned the inn in Halegore, the southernmost village on the island. Each was spaced about 150 kilometers apart and located four kilometers from the shore, forming a tight circle. One could easily make a journey to any city and back in a week. The inner island was scattered with thick forests, plains and deep strip mines. In the center of the island lay the Cumavon Desert, which some say covered over a quarter of the whole island, an impassable, uninhabitable region of extreme heat that claimed the life lall who were foolish enough to enter. And always unavoidable looming on the horizon was the Grandoon Volcano. The volcano reached so high that, while the whole island was covered in snow during the winter, the upper slopes of the volcano usually still held snow year round, even when the summer months brought sweltering temperatures. On a clear day, the Grandoon can be seen from anywhere on the island, even several kilometers out at sea. Only records remembered its last eruption, but the mountain was still feared by all the Athadians. It was seen as the giver of life, the creator of the island and of all living creatures. It was said that the volcano would erupt again to signal the end of an age; all on Athadia would be destroyed and reborn in the form of a new and more prosperous habitat.

The villages had worked together over the last thousand years to develop a well oiled machine of a society, although today, each village had its own opinions on how things should be done. Only a week-long gathering, of the mayors from each of the five villages, made the decisions about laws and regulations governing the whole island and gave sacrifice to the volcano itself. They met twice a year on the very slops of the volcano. Whether new laws were made or old laws were eradicated, they always held, respected by all the towns' people on Athadia, no matter how big a grudge was held between villages. This form of government had no monarch, and as far as the citizens of Athadia were concerned, they were better off without one.

The island sat in the middle of the Erinith Ocean, no land for leagues on either side. Sailors from Athadia who had considered themselves brave, others called them foolish, had sailed from ever side looking for other lands. Every ship would sail back within time however, the seamen deprived of food and thirst, having run out of supplies and forced to turn around. Every time another ship set out they made sure to pack more supplies and food, but they too would return home, having been at sea a little longer than the unsuccessful explorers before them. The fact of the matter was that none of these men had ever sailed the open seas. Most had only ever sailed around the edges of the island or a small way up a river. Their one-mast ships could not handle the storms and currents that brewed out at sea.

In this vastness Regeric lived in the village of Halegore, the second largest town on the Athadia. Halegore was the island's largest farming society. Because of large exports of agricultural products, it also had the largest seaport of any village on the island. Docks for about five ships stood awaiting their arrival. Ships and barges from the other villages on the island, bringing furs, spices, and iron ore were constantly stopping to drop their cargo and pick up a new load of wool and wheat. The unique exports of the five villages provided those that lacked with what they needed, and the favor was returned, for a price of course. Everything came with a price. Money ruled the world.

They quickly snuck between buildings and across empty streets, working their way across town. Regeric and Fitch lived on completely opposite sides of Halegore and were often seen walking between the farm and the inn, usually up to no good. Regeric was unsure of what tonight had in store.

Fitch's dad owned a large farm inland of Halegore. Regeric's uncle was the largest exporter of sheep's wool on the whole island. Regeric had spent a good many hours working on the farm with Fitch, helping him finish up his chores to free up more time for leisure. Regeric dreaded the shearing season that was just around the bend. Regeric had already survived another season of sheep shearing and was more than overjoyed that it was finished until next year.

The night was black as the overcast clouds covered what little light was cast by the stars. They made their way across the edge of the village, Fitch leading Regeric by the small flame of the lantern that produced long black shadows. Regeric knew there must be something important for Fitch to lead him off like this, without so much as saying a word. Regeric didn't know what Fitch had up his sleeve but he did know exactly where they were headed.

As they neared the farm, they scurried off to the biggest of the three barns. Sounds of livestock and other animals could be heard outside. As Regeric passed the farmhouse, he saw that a light was on in the third story window, but Fitch seemed to not notice it as Regeric continued to follow, his pace quickening as they neared their destination. They climbed a well-used ladder up to a large loft. Regeric followed Fitch up the ladder. As he reached the top, Fitch was already fastening the lantern to the rafters above, giving an eerie glow to the giant bales of hay that sat stacked against the walls. Fitch rifled around in the loose hay as Regeric threw himself atop a bale, eager to hear why Fitch had dragged him out here at this hour. Fitch was the first to break the silence.

"So there is this fellow camped just outside the other side of Old Man Ranker's farm. Do you want to go check it out?" Fitch spoke without looking up.

Regeric was instantly reminded of Truk, the man he had just encountered in his father's inn this very evening. Regeric leapt off the bale of hay, "Fitch, what did this man look like?" Images of Truk flashed in Regeric's head.

Fitch pulled two long objects out of the hay and held one out to Regeric. They were both short swords, nestled into old leather scabbards. The swords were usually only snuck out of the house when the boys felt like doing something 'adventurous'. "I don't know. Arian and I didn't get close enough to see actually see him. It could be a woman for all I know." Fitch let out small chuckle at that last statement.

Arian was a close friend of both Regeric and Fitch. An orphan, she lived with her aunt in Halegore. She was a tall girl, but still shorter than both Regeric and Fitch. Her luminous green eyes usually stunned those who first met her. She had pale skin and a round face framed with blonde, almost white, hair. The three were often seen in each other's company.

Regeric looked around expecting Arian to walk out from behind a stack of hay. He wondered what Arian and Fitch had been doing without him. "Well where is Arian?"

"She is still out where we first saw his…" Fitch cleared his throat "or her campsite. I told Arian to wait a little while if she wanted to and I would meet up with her later. She didn't know I was coming to get you." He still held out the sword for Regeric, shaking it now so that he would take it. "Come on she is going to get tired of waiting, if she hasn't already gone home yet."

"If this person is anything like the man that was in The Eagle this evening, I don't think we should go. My dad said he was camped north of Halegore, he also said to stay away." He had said north hadn't he?

Fitch quickly spoke up, already having fastened the sword to his belt. "How can it possibly be the same guy?" The truth was it wasn't often that people camped just outside of a farm. Most folk preferred the softness of an inn's mattress. "Come on, it will be harmless."

Regeric still stood with the sword in his hand, clearly not as enthused as Fitch about this 'adventure'. "I still don't think we should go, I mean…"

Fitch interrupted, "Well fine, but we have to go and at least bring back Arian. We can't have her out there waiting for us until morning." Fitch grabbed the lantern and started down the ladder. Regeric saw the faintest hint of a smile on Fitch's face as his head disappeared from the door in the loft. Regeric sighed and attached the sword and scabbard to his belt, sliding down the ladder after Fitch. This had better be quick.

Chespin Ranker's farm was the nearest farm to Haeres' and the furthest from Halegore. Beyond his farm stood the beginnings of a small forest and scattered wetlands. Beyond the trees ran the Niue River. It was small but small barges could easily make it at least as far as Ranker's Farm before they were forced to turn around for fear of grounding themselves. Regeric assumed that the stranger's camp was in or near the group of trees near the edge of Ranker's farm, so they would have to cross his farm to get there. Regeric was glad it was dark so they could not so easily be spotted by Old Man Ranker. Ranker had earned his nickname because of his bullheaded and stubborn mannerisms. He claimed the further away from his farm you were the better, especially kids that were up to no good. He was the first to let Regeric or Fitch know if they had trespassed onto his land and always let their parents know if he thought they were making trouble. But as his unruly behavior had continued, even Fitch's parents had begun to call him Old Man Ranker.

The boys set out across the farm, eventually climbing over a white-washed fence and entered Old Man Ranker's farm, just as Regeric had thought. Regeric walked behind Fitch, the lantern illuminating the thick growths of waist-high corn stalks in Ranker's field. Fitch pulled loose his sword and began loping off some immature corn ears as he walked along.

"I know you hate Old Man Ranker, but you should at least not destroy his crops," Even Regeric didn't think that was right. "Stop doing that." Almost before he could finish, a half an ear of corn hit him in the chest, still in its husk.

"I'm not harming his good ears," Fitch kept hacking away. "I'm getting rid of the ones with worms."

Regeric lifted the half an ear of corn up and looked it over. He slid the husk off and sure enough worms had eaten away at least half the kernels and the ear's soft flesh mashed between his fingers. He flung the ear away and wiped his hand on his backside to get the stickiness off from between his fingers. The truth was, after a dozen years of working on his father's farm, Fitch had an agricultural eye.

As they continued walking, Regeric kept glancing toward Ranker's farmhouse, half expecting to see a door fly open and an angry Ranker come chasing them off his property with a pitchfork. A light was on in the attic. Why was everybody up so late tonight? He wrung his hands in nervous anticipation. He noticed his hands felt clammy but they also sweat profusely and he continually wiped them on the legs of his smallclothes. Why did he feel so nervous? They weren't going anywhere near this mysterious character's campsite. Just grabbing Arian and getting back to the common room of the inn. Why did he wish to be in the common room?

After a time of walking, Regeric noticed another light in the darkness. It came from small copse of evergreens at the edge of the corn field. Fitch was still absent mindedly whacking corn stalks so Regeric grabbed his sleeve to get his attention and he looked back at Regeric. Regeric pointed toward the trees and Fitch's head followed his finger. Fitch sheathed his sword and lifted the lantern to silently blow out the flame. Fitch motioned for Regeric to follow and he did.

"I left Arian over here," Fitch said in a soft whisper, pointing just to the right of the trees. "Come on."

They stalked off toward the spot Fitch had pointed in the pitch blackness. As they entered the copse, Regeric held his hands near his head to fend off small sapling branches that seemed to claw at his face. The thorns of the overgrown bushes easily ripped at the fabric of his smallclothes, sometimes leaving small scratches on his legs. Branches and rocks crunched under their heavy boot falls. Surely someone could hear them approaching. Regeric could barely see as he entered an area of taller trees and nearly ran into Fitch who had stopped in front of him. He stepped up beside Fitch who leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Arian should be right here, she probably got tired of waiting and went home."

Fitch started walking again and after a few steps, stopped to pull back a thick evergreen branch, light from a decent sized campfire lit up a tent and blankets not twenty paces from where they stood. The blankets covered what looked to be a sleeping body. The tent stood at least two and a half paces high and a pace wide, definitely not for sleeping, which was why, Regeric assumed, the figure slept outside beside the fire. An intricate blue maze pattern bordered the top and bottom of the tent, thick ropes tied to large wooden stakes holding the tent in its place. The soil near his tent looked as if it had been raked in a circle around the fire. Not a single leaf or stick lay within a five pace radius from where the figure slept in its blankets. Regeric had been in this specific copse of trees before and he didn't remember such a large clearing in the center.

Both boys stood watching the campsite seemingly entranced by the flames in the fire pit. Time passed unnoticed. With no sign of Arian, Regeric turned to leave, hoping Fitch would follow, but instead Fitch grabbed his arm pulling him back to where he stood. Both sets of eyes were instantly drawn to the ruffling of the tents flap. Two hands pushed the entrance flaps aside and a tall gray haired man in a traveler's clock stepped out from inside the folds of the tent. He brushed the hair from his face as he raised his head to peer around his campsite. He stood straight, shoulders raised and chest out, seemingly a royal statue. Regeric's breath caught in his throat.

"It's him. It's Truk. We need to leave right now," Regeric managed to say under his breath and low enough not to be heard. He wondered who was sleeping under the blankets. He grabbed Fitch's arm and tried to pull him away, but Fitch's eyes were locked on what lay before them. Regeric looked back at Truk and saw him staring straight into his eyes, almost as if he was looking at him and not looking at him at the same time. Truk's gaze seemed to bore straight into his skull. Regeric's mind exploded in cascades of icy pain as he pulled his arm up to rub his temple, unaware of his own hand. He wanted to look away but instead felt like he was being pulled deep into Truk's glaring eyes. Regeric tried to avoid his gaze as Truk took a step toward them. As soon as Truk's first footstep landed, Regeric's stare finally broke away. He yanked at Fitch practically pulling him along behind him as he started to run. Fitch began to follow on his own and the only noise that echoed between the trees was the crunching of the undergrowth beneath their boots and their own ragged breath as they ran as hard as they could from the campsite, scared of what pursued them. Regeric never felt the deep scratches the briars left on his thighs

They didn't stop until they reached the barn. Fitch had even closed the doors after they climbed the ladder to the loft for good measure. Both sat slumped against the hay bales, chests rising with heavy breaths. Regeric's heart still beat what felt like a million times a minute. Had Truk followed them here? Truk could burst in here right now for all he knew.

Regeric removed his sword and tossed it across the floor to Fitch's feet. Fitch leaned over to unfasten his own sword and threw it atop the other. He then lay down on his back, sprawling his limbs across the floor. Regeric didn't know what to say. He just sat there wondering if he and Fitch were safe yet. Fitch finally spoke after what seemed like an eternity.

"Did you see him staring at me?"

"Staring at you? He was staring straight at me!" Regeric's voice rose as he started to get excited. "It was the same way he stared at me this evening in the common room."

"So it was the fellow you saw earlier," Fitch pointed a finger at Regeric. "Well he was definitely staring at me," Fitch now pointed the finger at his chest and he seemed uncomfortable with the subject. "And I sure didn't like it. It gave me an instant headache."

Regeric reached up to rub his temple again. The pain in his head was gone. Had the same thing that had happened to him happened to Fitch back there?

"I think that this was a bad idea," He and Fitch couldn't have left Arian out there. "But I guess we had to. Where was Arian? I hope she still isn't out there," Regeric again scanned the piles of hay bales. Knowing Fitch and his tricks, she could easily be hiding behind one, waiting to walk out and laugh at the look on his face after he had run across two fields thinking Death was chasing him. Fitch would get a good laugh too.

"Like I said, I told her to go home if I didn't show back up. She must have gotten tired of waiting." Fitch got up to leave. "I don't know about you but I am going to bed. Dad and I have to help unload a barge of coal from Norhaven tomorrow and I don't want him to notice I've had a lack of sleep. I hate coal, it gets everything black." Fitch walked over to the door, removing a huge beam propped up against the door they had used to barricade it from the inside. "You can take the lantern with you on your way home if you want." Fitch climbed down the ladder without waiting for an answer.

Regeric sat among the hay for a little longer still in disbelief at the events that had transpired that night. He wanted to go back between the pines and get another look at this strange man, Truk. Why did he wish to go back after what had just happened? Questions still swarmed in his head as he grabbed the lantern from where Fitch had left it on the floor. He put it up to his ear and shook it. There was just enough fuel to get him back to town, but only if he ran, and he was not walking home in the dark, not after tonight.


	3. Search Party

Regeric stirred in his sheets. He was normally awake by the time the talking and footsteps from the common room reached his ears. Not after last night however. He had been gone longer than he thought and had a hard time opening the window from the outside. Luckily he hadn't woken his father. He laid on his back staring at the ceiling, the dirtied small clothes he had worn last night tucked away under his bed. Last night had seemed like a dream, something out of a storybook.

The question of Truk's origins still puzzled Regeric. It just didn't make sense; rarely did a stranger show up out of nowhere, camping on the outskirts of town, and avoiding human contact to such a degree as Truk had. His behavior of keeping to himself was similar with the behavior of Ettingaurders. Ettinguard was the capital city of Athadia and by far the largest city on Athadia. It was the northernmost town on the island and therefore put it on the opposite side of Athadia as Halegore. Regeric had only visited the capital once, long enough to see the splendor in which it was built. Large stone buildings similar to The Golden Eagle were what the everyday commoner lived in, unlike the wooden, thatched roof houses many of the villagers in Halegore, and the other three villages on Athadia, lived in. The mayor of Ettinguard lived in a large stone building four stories high that Regeric could only describe as a palace. Ettingaurders seemed to think that everything good was a product of their own town, clothing, pottery and even their crops, even though all the farms in Ettingaurd combine probably only equaled the size of the whole Haeres Farm. Because of the wealth and politics that ran the lives of the people in Ettingaurd, they stuck their noses up at the people from other villagers. Although not unaccepting of men and women from other villages, they seemed to think they stood one step higher than those outside the walls of their homes, giving them an air of arrogant confidence. Regeric seemed to see similar qualities in Truk, but Halegore only received a few visitors from Ettingaurd every year.

Although the incident in the common room the night before, where Truk had been reprimanded by his father, aside from his smug arrogance, Truk's reaction didn't seem to fit the characteristics of an Ettingaurder. A man from Ettingaurd surely would have stood up for himself, expressing his feelings on why he had just as good of rights, if not better, than anyone in the village to be there in the common room. No Ettingaurder would have thought himself lower than an innkeeper. No, this timid behavior was definitely a prominent trait in a man from Norhaven, a city hidden away in the mountains on the on the western shore of Athadia. Though timid, the men, and women for that matter, from Norhaven were burly individuals, often standing a head over most men from other villages and at least twice as wide. There size could be attributed to years working in open mines and ore sites near at the base of the mountain range. However large the Noreese seemed, it was rare for a man to leave Norhaven by his own two feet. Because of the large mountain range that stretched from each side of the coast and met at the Grandoon, the only safe way in and out of the town was by boat. Some caravans had made it over the mountain pass to travel to the capital city, but only what could be carried on your back could be taken on the journey; wagons and oxen were useless on the steep mountain passes. Truk surely did not have the size of a Noreese man and would have had to seek passage on a boat, and with the clothes that Regeric had seen him in, would have spent every last penny he owned to pay for it. If he couldn't afford to stay in an inn then he surely couldn't afford to travel on a ship, even if he was tied behind the boat and dragged the whole way.

He could have only guess that Truk had come from Dovecross or Forestton, two villages on the eastern shore. Forestton was a lumber town, as one would guess from the name, that was also where a majority of the boats on and around the island were built. Dovecross lay north of Forestton, a small village on the Plains of Dorra, whose villagers had mastered the art of glassblowing and pottery making; the washbasin in Regerics room had been made there in fact. These two villages were most likely where Truk had come from but it would have taken him a week or more to journey from Dovecross however, adding a couple of days to skirt the Cumavon Desert. Regeric found it hard to believe that he had traveled such a great distance for what, tocamp outside the city? Regeric was puzzled but Truk's mysterious origins and actions, truly puzzled.

The noises from outside his room had gotten louder. It sounded like two people arguing. One of the voices he recognized as his father. His father rarely raised his voice, except to reprimand an occasional drunk that had gotten out of control in the inn. Regeric rose from his bed and got dressed. He stretched his limbs letting out a groan as the morning's sunlight streaming in the window and fell across his chest. After he tossed a little water from the washbasin on his tired face, he strode out to the common room to see what all the ruckus was about.

Several figures filled the booths along the wall and a couple sat at tables, most often with a cup of goat's milk in one hand and a large chuck of bread or cheese in the other. His father stood across from an older woman, her body hunched over with age. She stood with her hands on her wide hips and had a scowl on her wrinkly face. She wore a scarf on her head, covering her gray hair that was pulled up in a bun. Her clothes looked like they might crumble apart with even the lightest breeze. Niamh Morely looked upset over something important. And it didn't reassure Regeric knowing she was Arian's aunt. She was Arian's late mother's oldest sister and she and Arian lived together in a small cottage near the Niue. Niamh was terrible old and Arian had hated to admit, didn't have many years left in her. Regeric's father stood with a tray of freshly baked bread in one hand and a pitcher in the other. She was a bitter old lady that rarely had a nice word to say, but Mistress Morely must have had something important to say to interrupt his father in the middle of serving in his customers like that.

Regeric ducked inside the kitchens before either his dad or Mistress Morely could spot him. The smell of the kitchen overtook him and his stomach grumbled loudly. It reminded him that he had gone a long time without food. He was casually greeted by the cook, Agnes Wode. She had worked here as long as Regeric could remember, becoming almost a mother figure to him. He had never met his real mother. Agnes was a large woman with short brown hair and rosy red cheeks. Her apron was already stained with blood from preparing fresh cuts of meat for the day. She waddled across the greasy floor, a wooden spoon tucked in the apron strings across tied across her back. Regeric wondered how she had reached around her girth to place it there. She was removing steaming brown loaves from the oven and replacing them with trays containing pale lumps of dough.

Agnes' two daughters worked in the kitchens with her. Unlike their mother, they were skinny girls. Maud and Gilda, unfortunate names in Regeric's opinion, were two quiet girls that worked as hard as their mother. They were only a couple years younger than Regeric. They were often serving but today Maud stood over a large cauldron using a large whisk to stir its contents and Gilda, the one who had served Truk yesterday, sat on a small stool turning a spit with five lamb legs on it. The always wore smiles in Regeric's presence. Regeric returned an uncomfortable smile.

He was rarely in the kitchens, for good reasons. If Agnes saw you in there she often gave you a something to do. 'Idle hands are useless hands' she would say. He had entered into the kitchens to avoid Mistress Morely but when his father burst in behind him, he knew he had been seen. He saw the look in his father's eyes and followed him out without an exchanged word.

Mistress Morely now sat at one of the tables with her head propped up with her arm, her elbow resting on the table top. Her brow furrowed in a look of worry. Regeric was now curious what was wrong.

Regeric's father walked him over to the table. Mistress Morely looked up at Regeric. She had a hint of anger on her face. A look that made Regeric's hunger disappear and a nervous emptiness grow in the pit of his stomach. Regeric's dad's deep voice startled him when he spoke.

"Niamh says that Arian wasn't home when she woke up this morning. She thinks that she never came home," Gerrin's voice was pure seriousness. "She already talked with Fitch's parents and they said she was at their house last night near supper. Have you seen her since then?"

"No," Regeric swallowed hard. The last place he had heard Arian was was out behind Old Man Ranker's farm waiting for him and Fitch. He couldn't tell his father he had been near Truk's campsite when he had deliberately been told not to go near it. He hoped Fitch had not revealed their location last night when questioned by his parents. "Why?" How had Niamh made it out to the Fitch's farm anyway? Her old bones were never made to walk that far.

"Son, I just told you why! She didn't come home last night!" His father seemed a little frantic. Niamh sniffled and wiped her eyes with a brown lacy kerchief. Regeric understood the importance of the situation, and Mistress Morely shedding tears piled even more seriousness upon that.

"Uh, I didn't see her yesterday. I think she was with Fitch last." Regeric spoke the truth, just maybe not all of it. He hated throwing Fitch under the manure cart, but if it kept him from speaking about what had really happened, it was the better alternative.

"Well if you have not seen her yesterday then I do not think it is too early to call a search party."

When Niamh heard that a search party was going to be put together turned her sniffles turned into soft sobs. Gerrin set down the items in his hands and walked over to rub her back as she rested her head upon her crossed arms on the table.

The worst thoughts ran through Regeric's mind. She had last been seen practically in Truk's campsite by Fitch. She would have reported home to tell her aunt had she gone somewhere. She was at least that responsible. What if Truk had taken her? But they had just seen Truk's campsite and she had been nowhere near it. Regeric hoped Truk was still out there in the pine trees so that he could be question about Arian's whereabouts. He was sure that was the first place his father would look. If his father found her there then there would be no need to tell him he had been there too. But if Regeric could find her there first…

"Dad, do you want me to go and tell Uncle that you are forming a search party?" he needed to talk to Fitch immediately. Their stories needed to match to be believable and he wasn't going back out to the pines by himself.

'Sure, send Raulin into town with as many men as he can gather along the way," his father started to remove his apron. "But tell Morys and Emma to stay put. Raulin will want to bring Helen. Let him if he wishes." He began to help Niamh up from her seat and lead her to the kitchens, most likely for Maud or Gilda to show her to a vacant room and wait his return, hopefully with good news.

Regeric knew that his uncle Raulin would want to bring his wife to help with the search. And he also knew that if he insisted that Raulin could not bring her along, his Aunt Helen would choose to come herself. Morys and Emma, Fitch's younger sisters, would surely be left to watch the house.

Regeric walked calmly out of the inn, but as soon as the front door closed behind him, he started off at a dead sprint. He had forgotten to eat, and now the hunger had begun to grow in his stomach. As soon as his father gathered up a couple dozen men for a search party he was sure he would start them in the Circle and have them search Halegore starting from the center and working outwards. Usually, only once a year did a search party assemble; always too afraid to admit someone was missing at first, but once assured that the person was surely gone, the news of their disappearance spread like wildfire throughout the village. The last search part was put together only three months ago but turned out to be a false alarm. Only when the mother went to retrieve a painting of her missing daughter, to show to the searchers, did she find her 'missing' daughter hiding in the closet. But not all searches were successful. Only several years ago had a young brother and sister gone missing in the dead of winter. They were only found during the spring thaw, their dead corpses hugging each other in death's last embrace. He was sure his father would head straight to the evergreen copse where Truk was camped. Regeric and his father had the same suspicions of where to search first. He just hoped his father wasn't thinking the same horrible thoughts he was.

Regeric earned some odd looks from some folks on his way out of town. He had run to Fitch's house many times before, but never this fast. One of his best friends was missing and his other best friend was the last person to talk to her.

Regeric figured that Fitch would be in the barn, but he had to tell his uncle that his father was waiting for him at the inn, ready to send out a search party. He walked up the wooden steps of the porch, peeling white paint crunching under his boots. He had almost reached the front door when Fitch came bursting out, he looked surprised to see Regeric right there on his porch. He grabbed Regeric's arm and practically pulled him backwards, off his feet. Regeric followed, just catching a glimpse of the red golden hair of his sisters' standing in the doorway. Morys, who held three year old Emma on her hip, was a couple years younger than Regeric and always trying to empress him with a small smile and a waggle of her fingers, now looked rather worried. Emma sucked her thumb, oblivious to what was happening. She waved her free hand at Regeric, copying what, so often, her sister had done.

As Regeric ran after Fitch and continually glanced back at the house, "I need to tell your dad about the search party."

"He isn't in there. He and my mom went into town to form a search party. Niamh showed up here soon after I went to bed, she said Arian never came home last night," Fitch never bothered to look back at Regeric. "They left me here to see to the farm." Fitch didn't seem surprised at the lack of a reaction to the news. "I don't know how that old sack of bones managed to get all the way out to the farm by herself."

The farm couldn't afford a day off. Regeric was curious how his aunt and uncle had made it into town without passing him. He guessed his father and his uncle thought alike. They were brothers after all. He knew he should be back in town helping the search party but he needed to get to Truk before his father did. He felt drawn to the Truk's campsite.

"Fitch we need to go back." Regeric didn't need to say where he meant.

"I know. We are." Fitch led Regeric into the barn. I want to get the swords."

Regeric stopped. "Fitch, forget the swords! Arian is missing, you were the last person to see her, and all you can think about is wearing some swords!" Fitch looked a little sad. A farm hand named Orpik looked over the side of a stable at the two boys. Regeric ignored him as he motioned for Fitch to follow. "Come on, let's go." The two boys left the barn and set out towards Ranker's farm. Regeric hoped that Old Man Ranker was in the barn, still busy with his morning milking. The last thing they needed was to be chased of his property by Old Man Ranker.

When Regeric and Fitch reached the campsite, it looked different then how they had seen it last night. The fire was put out and Truk was nowhere to be seen. The blankets that were on the ground were also gone, leaving only an imprint where they had lain. Regeric had forgotten about the shape under the blankets. When they first discovered the camp, he had thought it was Truk sleeping there on the ground, but when he had walked out of the tent he forgot all about who laid within the blankets. It now struck him, Arian had been right there in front of their eyes, hidden under the folds of the blankets. Regeric's heart sank, Truk had already left. Or was he baiting them into the camp and waiting behind a tree or a rock to capture them and add him and Fitch to his captives. Regeric hoped his dad knew what town on the island Truk had come from so he could personally hunt him down and find Arian. But if Truk had left, why did he leave his tent? The tent still stood beside the ring of stones that now only held blacked firewood and ashes. Was Truk in the tent? If he was then where was Arian?

Regeric looked at Fitch. He was sure that Fitch was thinking the same thing as he. "He's gone. And I would bet my father's inn that Arian was under these blankets the whole time and now he has taken her away with him," He kept his voice quiet, still unsure if Truk was in the tent. He looked around into the trees surrounding the clearing. "if he still isn't in the camp."

Fitch took a step past the trees and into the clearing of the camp. He stared straight ahead at the tent. Regeric tried to stop him but he just kept walking. Fitch just brushed Regeric's hand away and muttered something. Regeric only heard "get him" and "the day he was born". What on earth was Fitch doing? Was he just going to barge into the tent? Truk could be in there and no one knew how dangerous he might be. Fitch kept walking. Regeric wished they had stopped to get the swords. Fitch stood within a couple paces of the tent, still walking. Regeric frantically looked for a stick or branch to wield. He expected Truk to jump out of his hiding spot any second now. Fitch stood in front of the tent now, a hand going to the flaps. Regeric raced towards him now, a thumb sized stick in his hands. He reached a hand out for Fitch to stop. "Fitch, don't go in there!" Fitch pulled open the tent and his eyes grew wide. Regeric thought the worst and ran to his side.

"Arian!" Fitch ran inside the tent, the flaps closing behind him. Regeric ran up and peered inside himself. Fitch stood inside, his arms around Arian.

When Fitch pulled away he saw how bad of shape Arian was actually in. She stood, arms tied behind her back around a think post stuck in the ground. Fitch was removing a cloth gag from around her mouth. Her face was bloodied and her hair had dirt and leaves strew through it. Tears had left furrows in the dirt on her cheeks. She worked her jaw as she tried to smile at Fitch and Regeric. Her tunic was just as dirtied as her face and hung loose on her shoulders. Regeric walked up and gave her a hug. She felt cold and she shook a little Regeric held her in his arms. When he pulled away she looked up at him; she had a twinkle of hope in her emerald eyes.

"Hold on Arian, we will untie you."

It was dark inside the tent, but Regeric began working on loosening the think ropes that bound her hands. The ropes felt like think vines that seemed to grow out of the wooden post. When Regeric looked closer at the base of the post, it seemed as if the post was growing straight out of the ground. Arian rubbed her wrists as they came free and Regeric stepped up to put an arm around his shoulders, he and Fitch carrying her outside. She squinted as the morning sun hit her eyes and she limped along, grateful for Fitch and Regeric's help. She stretched her limbs as she walked.

They set her down on the ground just at the edge of the campsite. Her voice sounded raspy as she spoke. "Do either of you have anything to drink?" Regeric and Fitch shook their heads. "What about to eat?" Regeric turned his pockets out but wasn't able to produce any food. Fitch had his pockets turned out as well. Regeric felt ashamed that they had come without being prepared. Arian looked even worse than she had when they found her. As hungry as Regeric was, he couldn't imagine how badly Arian was starving.

"I don't have anything but I know of some wild boysenberries just through those trees over there," Fitch pointed to a ridge to the north where the Niue turned towards Halegore. "I'll go grab some." Fitch hopped up, grabbing the stick Regeric had hefted earlier, and started heading near where he had pointed.

Regeric looked at Arian. She sat with her knees pulled up against her chest. She looked haggard and hungry. He sat down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. He rocked her as she started to sob. He wondered what had happened to her. Regeric was glad that Truk was gone; he just wished he had a chance to tell him what he thought of him.

Fitch appeared from between the trees. He must have run to get the berries. He handed the berries to Arian. She began to devour them, wiping tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands, smearing the dirt further across her cheeks. Regeric noticed a bit of berry juice on Fitch's lip. He must have eaten a few while he was gathering. Regeric was reminded of his empty stomach once again as it rumbled from the sight of the berries. He hadn't eaten since yesterday evening, and was sure Fitch had not either. He couldn't blame him for eating a few extra berries.

Arian's tunic was now streaked with berry juice. He also noticed she only wore one boot and her exposed foot was bruised. Maybe this encounter had been rougher than he imagined.

"Arian, if you don't want to talk about what happened; we should at least get you back to Fitch's house and let the search party know we found you. Besides I don't like being here, it gives me the spooks," As Regeric spoke, he was still formulating a plan to get Arian home in his head. "Fitch and I will carry you back."

Arian spoke, a little more life in her voice now. "They sent a search party out to find me?" She popped the last of the berries into her mouth.

Regeric nodded as they helped Arian to her feet. "Our fathers had just started organizing it this morning. Your aunt came to both of them looking for you when you still hadn't returned home."

Arian shook her head and sighed. "At least I have only been gone one day. I do hope Auntie didn't worry about me too much. I'm sure she did though."

They exited the trees, carrying Arian on their shoulders. She still limped along with what looked like a pain in her right ankle, the one without the boot. "Last thing I remember was someone grabbing me on the shoulders," apparently Arian was comfortable talking about what had happened now. "I turned around thinking it was you Fitch," Fitch looked a little ashamed he had left her alone for so long. "That's when something hit me on the head. I only woke up a couple hours before you found me."

"You mean you don't remember anything else?" Regeric asked curiously.

Arian squinted her eyes as she spoke. "My head hurts too badly for me to try and remember anything right now. But no, I can't seem to recall anything between getting hit on the head and when I woke up." Regeric wondered if he would ever get any of his questions about Truk ansered.

Arian could lift most of her weight walking but before they were even half way to the farmhouse Regeric began to feel the strain of her arm on his shoulder. He would carry her all the way to the house even if the only way he could get her there was to drag her. He just wished that he and Fitch had at least one other person to help carry Arian. Two others would be even better.

As if his wish was a summons, he spotted his father and two others walking briskly toward them from within the corn stalks. As they drew closer, Regeric could see who the two other men with his father were. One was his uncle and the other was a large muscular man named Melner. His father and uncle both wore swords on their hips but Melner, Halegore's blacksmith, wore a sizable axe in a loop on his belt. He knew they had expected bloodshed.

When the men saw them they started to run. When they approached the three younger kids the questions started to flow out of all three of their mouths.

"Where did you find her?"

"Are you ok Arian?"

"Who did this to you?"

"Here Arian, let me carry you." Regeric's uncle easily lifted Arian up in his arms. He looked like a smaller, tanner version of his brother, with more hair. Arian rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "I don't think she is up to questions just yet. Fitch, come with me. We will take her to the farmhouse and Helen will tend to her."

Melner nodded, his long hair shaking. He tucked some loose strands behind his ears as he turned to Gerrin. "I guess I should go back into town and call off the search party. There is a lot of other work that could be getting done now that we have found Arian." Melner was a hard working man but always the first to volunteer if a favor needed done.

As Melner strode away, Regeric's father looked at him, a stern look on his face. "Follow me." Regeric knew where they were headed. He felt safer with his father accompanying him, especially since he carried a sword. But the seriousness in which his father spoke added butterflies to his empty stomach making him very uncomfortable.

They traced the way that Regeric and Fitch had carried Arian out into the field from the copse of evergreens. Regeric realized how little distance they had actually carried her. While carrying Arian's weight, Regeric felt like they had walked well over a dozen kilometers when in reality, he realized, they had really only covered two. This distance seemed even further now that he knew what awaited him, a strict reprimanding for blatantly disobeying serious orders.

"So he is gone then?" His father's tone was still stern, and he rested one hand on the sword hilt at his hip.

"Yes sir," Regeric mumbled, his head hung low. His father knew where they had found Arian as easily as if he had seen it himself.

The abandoned camp looked the same as when Regeric had arrived their earlier. It reassured Regeric to know that Truk was gone for good. Although it did anger him to know that he had gotten away scot free. His father walked around the camp, nudging the charcoaled logs in the center of the stone ring with his foot and cautiously pulling back a tent flap to peer into the darkness within. Regeric stood at the edge of the camp and watched while his father examined what Truk had left behind. Last night he had stood in nearly the same spot, frozen in fear by Truk's menacing glare. The memories of that encounter and the moments in the common room seemed far off, almost as if they had occurred years before he was born. He couldn't explain it, he knew it had happened yesterday, yet the memories had become spotted, as if trying to remember his mother. Sadly, trying to remember her face was as difficult as trying to remember a stranger he had never met. She had died from the same sickness that had claimed both of Arian's parents. His father spoke little about it. Maybe these were memories he didn't want to remember. His father walked back to him and spoke. "Tell me what happened here."

As they walked back to join the rest at the farmhouse, Regeric reluctantly described all that had happened, from leaving his room in the middle of the night to when they all met in Ranker's field. Regeric excluded the parts where Truk had looked deep into his eyes, seemingly peering into his very soul. Fitch had even claimed that the same interaction had occurred with him. That would be their little secret, nobody needed to know what had happened, not even his father. His father seemed shocked and slightly disappointed when Regeric told him that Arian had not remembered anything of Truk or being held captive.

Regeric asked his father where he thought Truk had come from. He tried to sound curious to hide the fact that he had been thinking about it since this morning. His father had no idea and wondered the same thing himself. He said he would circulate Truk's description to each village on the island in order to see him arrested and brought to justice. Regeric just wanted to know what his intentions had been in kidnapping Arian.

They had reached the farmhouse by the time their conversation came to a close. Before they entered, His father grabbed Regeric by the shoulder and spun him face to face.

"What you did last night was foolish, not to mention dangerous. I had suspicions about this man and it turns out he was more dangerous than I first thought. It was brave of you to go back when you knew what you faced but you should have let me know. I will never punish a truthful mouth."

Regeric nodded. "Yes father, I understand."

"Good boy, now let's keep what has happened between you and me. Hopefully Fitch was smart enough to keep his flaming mouth shut as well," His father grabbed his belly laughing.

Regeric smiled as he and his father threw his arm around him and they walked onto the porch and into the farmhouse.


	4. Ambush!

Over the next couple of days Arian had recovered from her dangerous encounter with Truk. Her ankle turned out to not be that serious and after a cool compress, the swelling went down and she was able to put her full weight on it. With some bed rest and decent meals she had finally had enough energy to leave her house. Niamh wished that Arian had stayed in bed longer to ensure a full recovery, but the old woman eventually needed to be taken care of herself.

During her time in bed, her aunt had been by her side since she came home, tending to her every need as best she could. Regeric and Fitch visited her often, sitting on her bedside and relating what they had done that day and what she had missed out on. Arian often asked what had happened back in the clearing but Regeric and Fitch always skirted the issue and brought up another subject. Regeric felt bad that they couldn't even tell her who her captor was or even how they had found her. He and Fitch had been sworn into secrecy by their father's, and it was hard for both the boys to keep their mouth shut and keep their friend in the dark. For all Regeric was concerned, it was hard for all three of them to not talk about what had happened whenever they were together. But for however much they thought about it, they couldn't avoid going back to their daily routines over the next couple of weeks.

Arian returned to taking care of her Aunt and helping her around the house. She was often greeted by those in the village that noticed she was safely returned home. She welcomed their greetings and returned to her cheery self faster than anyone would have expected.

Fitch went back to helping his father on the farm. He and the hired farmhands had to work a couple extra hours during the week after Arian was found to make up for the lack of work that had been done the morning of the search party. It turns out Fitch's father had taken several of the farmhands into town with him so even more work had been left undone that day. Fitch had been busy on the farm during all hours of sunlight and he had told Regeric more than once that he was too tired to do anything at night. Regeric noticed Fitch was a lot less like himself, but Regeric new that it would rub off with time.

Regeric, of course, found his place back at the inn helping his father. Gilda and Maud had somehow heard that Regeric and Fitch had helped to find Arian, and now followed Regeric around, hoping Regeric would reveal a bit of how it had happened. He had to navigate away from them within the inn, relieved when he went to bed for the night. Regeric was afraid that if he didn't sneak out the back door, they would follow him all the way to Fitch's house.

Regeric's father had sent pigeons to everywhere on the island listing Truk's description and the charges against him. If seen, the orders on the message had said to restrain Truk and notify Gerrin Haeres via pigeon. Regeric's father had planned to have Truk shipped down to Halecore from wherever he was on the island to be put on trial. So far no word of his appearance had returned to Halegore, granted each pigeon made it to its destination.

Eventually a month went by without word of Truk and the kidnapping had begun to be forgotten and attention instead turned to the coming of the longest day of the year, most commonly known as All Sun Day. On this day, the sun stood in the sky longer than any other day of the year, and more importantly, was the day of one of the most important celebrations of this year. Every fourth year, the whole island took part in the All Sun Celebration, a day where everyone left their work for as long as a week, and gathered at the site of the mayoral meetings on the slopes of the Grandoon Volcano. Four years ago was the last celebration and gathering at the Grandoon, which meant that this year the same celebration would be held. A day long celebration in which every man, woman, and child on Athadia celebrated another four years of prosperous trade and harvest. Food and drink were among most of the items brought out from each village in order to celebrate the fruitfulness of the island. It was also a time for large exchange of goods between the villages. Each village brought its own special wares, wooden carvings from Forestton, exotic pottery from Dovecross, and precious metals and gems from Norhaven. While most everything was for sale, a majority of the goods were just exchanged for something that the seller thought was more valuable, or pleased his eye. For as much as Regeric had remembered from four years ago, it had been one of the most exciting and worthwhile experiences of his entire life. He looked forward to a whole day of relaxation and fun with family and friends he had made there this time four years ago.

Preparations for the All Sun Celebration started a week before it was to take place. Because the celebration was held so far from Halegore, extra work was done before and after the celebration to make up for the work that would be missed the week many people were gone from the village. While some hired folk had to stay in the village to take care of utilities and the milking and feeding of all the animals on the farms, a good majority of the villagers left Halegore and made the long journey, but it was required for some to stay behind.

The pace of the whole village had begun to pick up as many people began to prepare for the journey and the celebration. Old wagons were brought out from where they sat unused behind a house or barn. New canvases were stretched over the metal bows and new sheet metal hammered around wooden wheels. Saddles were pulled from closets and horses were re-shoed; Melner had to hire an extra hand to help with the sudden demand of horseshoes. Everyone seemed to be running to and fro, packing and buying supplies for the three day journey. Streets were lined with vendors, mostly near the center of town, filled to bursting with people buying up a last couple items before they left for a week and salesmen taking full advantage of this sudden mass of people. Children ran amok, some running last minute errands for their parents and some taking full advantage of the crowded streets. Sometimes a few children ran by rolling and empty hogshead, no doubt taking it back to one of their parents to be filled and carried to the celebration.

Of course Regeric saw to helping his father red up the inn and prepare for travel themselves. Mistress Wode had volunteered to stay behind and watch the inn while everybody was away. She would live at the inn, monitoring it while it was closed for the week. Unfortunately for Regeric she had let her two daughters go, they would be accompanying Regeric and his father in their wagon. Arian and her aunt were also riding along with them. All the food, especially the meat and milk, had to be preserved. The meat was stored away in large barrels of salt that were then stacked in the back of the kitchen to await their return. The milk had to be carried down the basement to be stored in a cool cavern that had been carved near the back, under the alley. The milk would barely be useable when they returned. Regeric had taken his father's wagon to be fixed of minor repairs that may have become something major as the long trek began. They could not afford a broken wheel or a ripped canvas. Regeric fed and brushed his and his father's horses, readying them for the journey as well. The preparations never seemed worthwhile until after they had arrived at the volcano and were having the time of their lives.

The day before the beginning of the mass migration towards the volcano arrived, Regeric left the inn on Treedancer, a white mare, with the reins of Firefox, his father's red dun, tied to his saddle. Treedancer stood about a half a hand higher than Firefox. Regeric always smiled when he thought about the fact that his father, who was a couple inches taller than him, had a smaller horse. But his smile always faded when he remembered that Treedancer actually belonged to his dad as well. He had always allowed Regeric the first rights to the horse when they rode. Over time, Treedancer had just assumed the title of "Regeric's horse", plus it seemed to like him better anyway.

He was going to pick up Arian and her aunt at their house and bring them to the inn to stay the night. He and his father weren't the only ones that wanted to get a good head start on the day. Everybody was taking care of last minute preparations. The last of the wagons and horses were loaded up and the people in the streets began to thin. As the afternoon drew to a close, people went home and ate supper so they could head to bed early, ready to wake up before the sun was up and head out. The streets had quieted significantly from the days before by the time that Regeric had reached Arian's house.

Arian and her aunt had their stuff waiting and after Regeric had lashed their bedrolls behind both saddles and their canvas bags of clothing within the saddlebags, he helped Mistress Morely onto his mare and Arian onto Firefox. He walked between them as they made their way back to The Golden Eagle.

After a quick meal between Regeric and his father and Arian and her aunt, they headed to bed. Arian and her aunt were put up in the largest room in the inn, a room in the front of the inn with large windows and two spacious four-poster beds. The inn was mostly empty but Gerrin would have put Arian and Niamh up in the best room even if the inn was packed to the walls and he was losing money by it. Niamh insisted that she could just as easily sleep on blankets on the common room floor as in a bed. She made it seem like Gerrin had to force her to sleep on the feather mattress in her room. The truth was that if Niamh slept on a hard wooden floor, she wouldn't be able to stand in the morning because of a sore back, and riding a horse would definitely be out of the question. Niamh just hated to admit she was becoming so old and always looked for excuses to assure herself she was not. After making sure the women were comfortable, Regeric's dad joined him in their room and they both lay down for the night. Regeric lay awake in his bed for a while, thinking of the good time he would have over the next couple of days. He fell asleep longing to be at the Celebration.

Regeric's dad shook him to wake him up in the early hours of the morning. Regeric felt like he had only been asleep for five minutes and groaned sleepily as he sat up in bed. His father was already dressed and was walking out the door, shutting it behind him. Regeric realized he must have been sleeping soundly to not have been woken by his father clothing himself there in the room.

Grey clouds hung think in the sky and completely blackened the room of all light. Regeric rolled over, exhausted from excitement that had driven him for the last couple of days. He had looked forward to this All Sun Celebration since the day the last one ended four years ago. It was finally here, yet Regeric found he was not as excited as he had expected to be. He felt somehow hampered to the immense excitement, surly Fitch, and at least Arian felt, by some unseen feeling of longing. It was not the clouds that dampened his spirits. The dark clouds surely meant rain and rain meant mud. The trip to the Grandoon could take up to twice as long if the roads were slicked with mud, which would extend the period of time they were away from Halegore. Regeric's dad had told him of times when it took over a week to travel to the All Sun Celebration and almost that long to get back. That year the Celebration had been held in the midst of a downpour. However, fear of rain was not what bothered him. It seemed now, that he did not long to be at the Celebration, but at something more. Something that he felt would fulfill him even more than the food and games he would surely be waiting for him at the end of the three day journey. He shrugged off the faint feeling, and focused of the excitement that surely still remained. He slid out of his bed, splashing water from the washbasin on his face, and put on some rough clothes for riding. He made sure to grab a cloak for riding in the rain. He snatched his knife from the stand by his bed and laced his belt through it. A gift from his father on his fifteenth birthday, he often used it every day and would surely find another chance to during the next day's travel. Running his fingers along the leather wrapped handle of the knife, he stepped into the common room.

His father stood in the doorframe of the kitchen passing bundles of food through the way. Arian was taking the bundles filled with a last few provisions that would need to be easily accessed during the three-day trip, and carrying them through the front door. She would be loading them into what room was left in Firefox's saddlebags. Regeric and his father had loaded up their wagon with a lot of the food and drink that would be unloaded upon reaching their destination. Niamh sat in a booth on the far side of the room. She held her hands on her lap, a patient look on her face. Regeric had barely noticed her tucked away, covered in a thick green cloak that looked a little large on her. Gerrin stepped out from the kitchen when the last bundle had been handed through and followed Arian through the front door. Mistress Wode emerged from the kitchen shortly after Gerrin. Regeric spotted Maud and Gilda eyeing him from the kitchen as the door swung shut. Mistress Wode walked over to Niamh in her booth. She grasped one of Niamh's arms and proceeded to help her up. She glared at Regeric and he rushed over to hold Niamh's other arm. Together they helped her out of the booth and through the front door.

In the stable, Gerrin was already hitching Treedancer to the wagon. Arian appeared from a stall with two large sacks of oats in each hand. He could see the eagerness on her face to get going so to arrive as soon as possible. Regeric knew she was probably even more excited to be at the Celebration than he was. When she saw him, her smile faded and she turned away, throwing the burlap sacks, one by one, into the wagon. He wondered about the expression on his own face that had turned her away. He looked up at Mistress Wode who stood shaking her head, her eyes closed. He wondered what was with everybody this morning. He had barely been up for a half hour and everyone was casting him disappointing glances.

He continued to help Niamh over to the wagon with Mistress Wode. Space in the wagon had to be sacrificed so an extra seat could be made for Niamh. Gerrin and Arian would ride in the front of the wagon, and Regeric would ride Firefox. Niamh had insisted that she could ride up front, but once again had to be denied of her preference and put in her place in the back of the wagon. Regeric thought it a shame that Niamh took up valuable space that could have been used to carry more food and drink to the Celebration, but in all truth, if left alone at the inn, Niamh probably would have expired before the food had. Regeric made sure he didn't voice that idea, especially around Arian.

After everything had been loaded up and the horses saddled and secure, Regeric trotted through open the stable doors, holding Firefox's reins, and after the wagon rolled out, shut and locked the door behind them. The rust lock clicked shut and Regeric hoped up on Firefox and brought him to a slow gallop to catch back up with the rest of his party. The gray clouds now had a reddish hue as the sun had begun to rise to the east, but they still covered the sky and threatened rain. A small breeze picked up, giving the morning a little chill. Regeric was glad that he brought a heavy cloak not only in case of rain, but now, as he wrapped it close to him to fend off the nip in the air. Regeric pulled up beside the wagon, nodding to his father that the stable was closed and locked. Gerrin seemed to let out a long held breath as he nodded back and smiled. He held the reins tight in his hands and Arian sat silently beside him with her hands crossed under her breast. She slowly turned her head and offered a small smile at Regeric. He returned the smile and adjusted himself in the saddle.

The village around them bustled with horses and wagons alike. While some had already left the village, a majority of the villagers were still pulling wagons from stables and running in and out of their houses frantically, seemingly worried they would miss the whole Celebration itself. Regeric could see people readying all sorts of supplies inside and out of their houses and the streets were hurriedly filling with people eager to depart from the city. Those staying behind waved goodbye from doorsteps, and Regeric waved back to those people he knew.

Standing in his stirrups, he was able to spot Fitch and his family across the crowd. He yelled for him and Fitch stood up from the seat on the wagon he was driving and signaled him back. The wagon Fitch drove was one of the largest covered wagons in the village, pulled by two horses. The contents of the wagon were almost visible as they bulged against the dark canvas; Regeric was sure all the Haeres' belongings were packed into that lone wagon. Beside Fitch's wagon, his father sat a top of a brightly painted coach. Raulin sat next to Helen atop the coach, holding the reins of a single horse. Morys peeked her nose through the blue curtains in the coach's window, smiling as she looked around. Raulin had bought that coach exactly four years ago from a man at the All Sun Celebration. The man he bought it from had come from Ettingaurd and had claimed he had several more back home. It was the first coach that Regeric had ever seen in the Halegore. Raulin's and his coach had been the talk of the village for several weeks after they had arrived back from the Celebration, whether they shamed him for buying something he really didn't need or admired it every time Raulin rode it into town. The last few weeks had overheard several men claim they had were taking money to the Celebration to buy themselves a coach of their own. Although Regeric thought the coach really had no good use except to provide transport for villagers around Ettingaurd, he secretly hoped his father would buy one of his own.

Smiling faces shown all around as the mass of people exited the village and took to the rough road that lead to the Grandoon. Several people took up singing joyous songs and others soon joined in. Arian sat atop the wagon smiling and singing with Gerrin as she swung her legs and clapped her hands. Niamh even attempted to sing along, loudly voicing the words she actually knew. Regeric even hummed the tune himself, "Dance in the Mountains", a fitting song for the occasion.

The rain had held off for the first day of travel and the large group had traveled the planned distance by the time they stopped to make camp for the first night. The happiness and excitement permeated from all the villagers as everyone's anticipation grew now that the first day's travel was over. A large clearing on the banks of Niue served well as a temporary campsite. Large oak trees hung over the area creating a natural leafy canopy. Small piles of rocks dotted the area and a familiar feel of home circulated throughout the camp. After everyone had unloaded their horses' saddle bags and set up small tents across the area, cook fires were started and each person made their own preference of what to eat with the food they had brought. Night was dark as the heavy gray clouds covered the stars and small sliver of a moon.

Camp broke early as darkness still hung in the air. The morning held a stronger breeze than the days before, and the thick branches of the oak groaned with the movement of the wind. The breeze however, was not as cold today. In fact, it was quite warming and many people had added their cloaks to the supplies in the saddlebags and wagons. The tents were taken down and fires put out as quickly as they were assembled. People's faces held an air of tiredness along with the ever present happiness. Regeric tightened a strap that held his blankets behind his saddle. He imagined that many people had been up late that night, too full of excitement to fall asleep. He had lain awake for several hours after he had climbed into his blankets. It was odd that the whole time he laid there, eyes focused on the canvas peak of the tent, he had not once thought about the Celebration. He didn't understand why he felt emptiness where his excitement for the Celebration should be. It was almost as if he wished he was somewhere else, almost the same feeling that he felt when he longed to be at Truk's camp. Regeric shook his head, scrubbing the back of his hand across his brow. He was in the midst of the best days of the next four years and all he could think about was Truk. Maybe he was going crazy. He heeled his horse and followed the last of the villagers leaving the clearing.

As the sun reached its peak on the third day, Regeric rubbed a hand across the small stubble on his chin. He unbuttoned his shirt as he twisted in the saddle, staring back to those behind him. The clouds had miraculously cleared without rain; and the full heat of the sun reached down upon the caravan. After breaking camp on the second day, the humidity had increase intensely and had slowed down the villager's movement. Horses had to be stopped every couple of miles to be watered. Though trying not to outwardly complain, many voiced their opinions about traveling in the heat. The heat made everyone want to arrive at their destination even faster, and the arrival of the Grandoon Volcano on the horizon had increased the villager's eagerness tenfold. Regeric stared down the line oh horses that walked behind him. Fitch still rode atop the wagon he had left Halegore on. Brelen, a village boy about Fitch's age whose small stature gave him the look of a twelve year old, sat beside Fitch on the bench on the wagon. Fitch quickly went from staring at the back of Regeric's head to whispering in Brelen's ear. Brelen's eyes shifted to Regeric as he shook his head at him. Fitch turned to sit up straight, the reins in his hand, refusing to look at Regeric until he turned his back again. Regeric had tried to talk to Fitch after what had happened yesterday but every time Regeric reined Firefox beside Fitch's wagon, Brelen told him that Fitch didn't want to talk to him. A boy who usually stayed cooped up in his room with his girly poetry had now been befriended by Fitch to serve as his voice so he didn't have to speak to Regeric directly. How immature. Regeric turned around and wondered what had driven him to say what he had yesterday.

_Regeric through a leg over his saddle and used his stirrup as a foothold as he jumped off Firefox and onto the side of Fitch's wagon. He looped Firefox's reins around a wooden bar on the side of the wagon so he could walk alongside the wagon while Regeric rode. Fitch reached out from where he sat and offered a hand to Regeric, pulling him up beside him on the bench. Fitch smiled as Regeric sat down, rubbing his sweaty hands on his pant legs._

"_This humidity is killing me. I want to get to the Celebration so bad." Fitch slapped the reins urging the horses to a faster walk._

"_I can't wait either" Regeric droned, as he stared at the horses pulling the wagon trying to figure out what their names were._

"_Maybe you will stop acting so put out." Fitch had said that just loud enough for Regeric to overhear._

"_What do you mean 'put out'? Who said I looked 'put out'?" Regeric was starting to get worked up._

"_Your dad and Arian have both told me that you have acting weird lately." Fitch fiddled with the leather reins. "I don't know I guess I've sort have noticed as well. You just aren't yourself and your temper has been really short. Remember about a week ago when you came…"_

"_That was nothing." Regeric cut him off. Regeric had noticed Fitch being a little testy himself. They sat in silence for a while, neither knowing whether to continue the conversation._

"_I sure hope I see Maena there." Fitch broke the silence with a lighter subject. He stared ahead as if caught in a trance, a small smile spread across his face. Fitch had met a raven haired girl about a year older than him at the Celebration four years ago. He had talked about her for almost a month after arriving back in Halegore, and had recently brought her up since leaving again this year. "She was totally in to me."_

_Regeric looked Fitch as if someone had told him the buckle on his boot was undone. "How many times are you going to say that? She asked you to fill her glass because you were standing in front of a tankard of cider. She didn't even say anything to you just held out her glass like you were a maid or something." It was true. Fitch had to ask someone at the Celebration what her name was and Regeric would be surprised if she even recognized him this year._

"_She will too." Fitch nodded his head as if assuring himself she would._

"_She didn't even know your name."_

_Fitch looked angry now. "Maybe she asked someone! Come on, help a guy out here. Can't I dream a little? You _are_ a little harsh."_

"_I wouldn't talk to you if I were her." Regeric wondered why he had said that as soon as it left his lips. He grimaced as Fitch punched him in the arm._

"_Well if I were me, I would not talk to you!" Fitch was starting to get a little worked up._

_Regeric wondered if that phrase even made any sense. Fitch stared at him like he didn't know how Regeric had taken a seat beside him. Regeric opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. He only had harsh words._

"_Get off my wagon if all you are going to do is bash me." Fitch's smile had disappeared. "You are acting like child that was told he couldn't go out and play with his friends." He shuffled closer to the center of the bench leaving no room for Regeric and forcing him to step down off the side of the wagon. Regeric hoped back onto Firefox and heeled him forward into the traveling crowd._

Ever since then Fitch had sat atop the wagon with Brelen. Regeric thought about Fitch trying to get Maena to notice him and wriggled in disgust. That almost made the rest of his excitement to be at the Celebration disappear altogether. Regeric tried not to let it bother him too much, but he still couldn't help turning around to see what Fitch and Brelen were up to for the rest of the day. He certainly wasn't the one with the temper, it was all Fitch.

As evening came, eagerness to be at the Celebration grew in everybody's' chests. Even the horses twitched excitedly as the anticipation radiated from all the villagers. Those who had been there numerous times before knew that they were within a few miles of the site. Word was quickly passed down the line of people until it had reached Regeric's ear where he sat upon Firefox near the back of the caravan. Apparently men from other villages that had already arrived, had walked from the base of the Volcano to greet them and welcome them to the Celebration. Villagers talked amongst themselves about what they would do first upon arriving. Regeric felt more excitement when he heard the news they were close and he could feel his spirits being lifted. Yes, he really did want to be at the All Sun Celebration; now more than ever. He sat up straight in his saddle and squinted his eyes and peered ahead to possibly see who all had arrived at the Grandoon ahead of their party. It was useless considering they were still a half a mile from the site; it was also beginning to become hard to see as dusk neared. He settled back in his saddle and waited for more news.

The sky erupted. Regeric did not know how else to describe it. An explosion of light and fire filled the sky above, illuminating the villagers below with a light as bright as twenty suns. A burst of heat rippled the air above the villager's heads. As soon as the light disappeared, the chaos was plunged back into darkness. Firefox bucked and Regeric's heart seemed to pound at the inside of his chest trying to escape somehow. Purple afterimage floated in Regeric's vision he laid his head along Firefox's neck, rubbing his side to try and calm him. Other's horses threw their riders from their saddles, and horses hitched to wagons tried to break free, kicking frantically at what held them back. A few women were screaming, and indiscernible shouts grew louder as the villagers scrambled into the copses of trees that lined the road, some trying to catch horses that had run away, and some gathering crying children under their arms to carry them out of harm's way. As Regeric finally got Firefox under control and his eyes readjusted to the darkness, he scanned the scene for a sign his father. His father was somewhere near the head of the caravan when he had last seen him, so he kicked Firefox forward to find him. He weaved Firefox in and out of the frantic people. He rode hard as he wondered whether Arian and Niamh were still with his father. He hoped they were and that they had not been too frightened or injured.

The orderly line traveling to the Celebration had become a frantic mass of people. The villagers clutched others close, eyes raised to the sky, looking for what had caused the grand explosion. A high-pitched scream, emanating from the woods, still reached Regeric's ears every now and then. People reached up to him when he raced by on his horse, looking for a reassuring hand to tell them it was alright. He neared the head of the group and continued to ride right past them. There were no longer people surrounding him as he left the frantic group of villagers behind as rode Firefox further down the beaten path. Without the reassurance that his family and friends were alright, he sped down the road toward the site of the Celebration. He could not explain his feeling of longing. Visions of floating colors flooded his eyes as an ache grew in his middle. He had to be at the Grandoon, so he raced there as fast as he could. He laid flat on Firefox's neck as the warm summer air blew back his hair. Rounding a turn in the road, he could see his destination. Campfires dotted the area ahead and he knew he was drawing closer. He snapped the reins on Firefox's neck even though he knew that the dun was running at his top speed. The road stretched out before him, and the ache in his middle had spread throughout his whole body and he could feel his knuckles gripping the reins tighter and tighter in anticipation. Firefox's hooves beat against the dirt-packed road in a rhythmic thundering as he drew closer and closer. Right now nothing else mattered.

Regeric heard another pair of hooves on the road beside him. He glanced over to his left, curious as to who had joined him. Fitch sat atop one of the horses that had been hitched to his father's wagon. The horse galloped as fast as Firefox even though it bore the harness that had tied it to the wagon, wooden tongue still attached, jagged on the edges from where it had been snapped off. Fitch's head swung between looking down the road and looking at Regeric, as if unsure what exactly he was doin. Regeric noticed his heels dug in to his mare's side. Arian sat behind Fitch, tightly clinging to his back, disregarding his cloak that was slapping her face. Her hair blew behind her like a fluffy white fox tail. A look of worry covered her face as she frantically called out to Regeric. Her mouth worked silently, forming words he was meant to hear.

Only Regeric couldn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything. Their horses' hooves pounded the dirt road with only so much as a tiny puff of dust. His chest heaved in deep breaths but he could not hear his own breathing. The night was silent around him. He turned his head forward, back to his destination. It was within grasp; he was almost there. Then he saw that it wasn't wood that burnt in scattered piles around the giant clearing where the Celebration was to be held, no, it was bodies that burnt, human bodies. He reined his horse hard near the edge of the clearing as Fitch did the same.

His face lit up with horror. The scene in front of him confused and disgusted him. He emptied his stomach over the side of his horse. He saw Fitch wipe his sleeve across his mouth and Arian looked ready to sick up as well. He wanted to turn Firefox away and ride back to his father but he couldn't. Arian tugged at Fitch's sleeves, wanting him to turn back but he stayed as deeply rooted in his saddle as Regeric was. He tried to keep his face turned away from the gruesome scene in front of him.

Bodies lay everywhere, humans and horses alike; men women and children. Some still burning, while others were just charred remains. Regeric was glad the bodies were burned beyond recognition, he didn't know if he could handle knowing who those people were. It was a wonder he did not smell the burning flesh halfway down the road. It seemed to burn his nostrils at the moment. Scattered among the piles of bodies stood massive tents; all of them with their flaps drawn, and small holes burned through their canvas'. Tables lay overturned and burned as well. Odds and ends lay everywhere, a split cider cask spilt it contents all over the ground and a wagon was blazing like a giant torch as it slowly fell apart. It looked as if it had rained fire just moments before they arrived. There seemed to be no one in sight; no one alive at least.

Regeric heard hooves and the clanking of steel behind him and hastily started to turn around, anxious to take his eyes away from the slaughter before him. He realized it was the first sound he heard since taking off down the road. He wheeled his horse around to face what rode at him and his companions.

Rows of men on horses trotted toward where he sat. All their horses were black and it contrasted sharply with the bright red coats they wore under shinny breast plates. Their horses wore red gilded harnesses and saddles, but the red was barely visible under all of the gold stitching. In addition to their coats, every man wore thick black pants and gleaming black boots. At least Regeric guessed they were all men; they all had a pointed helmet, with a barred faceguard, that matched their breastplates atop their heads. Regeric also noticed that each man had a thick sword belted at their hips. One man held a banner that rested in his stirrup; it looked like a large black mountain on a field of red. He had never seen anything like this before. Only stories that his father had told him helped him to recognize a lord's guard assembling in front of him. Regeric tried to look over the men to see what had become of the rest of the villagers. He didn't hear anything that would tell him they were still running frantically. Maybe they had settled down, or maybe his hearing was playing tricks on him again. One man rode at the head of the center column and his helmet sat snuggly under his arm. He had the darkest skin Regeric had ever seen. His short curly hair clung impossibly close to his scalp and the big lips around his pearly teeth sat under a large flat nose. He wore large gold hoops in each of his earlobes. As the other men halted, the man without his helmet on rode up toward the two horses that carried Regeric, Fitch, and Arian.

Regeric watched the mysterious man stride his horse back and forth in front on the three, watching them closely. He saw three small gold bars on the man's lapel that he had not noticed on any of the other horsemen. Regeric wished he could bolt for it, but he couldn't. He didn't want to run. He looked at Fitch and Fitch looked back at him. Regeric knew he was feeling the same thing didn't want to move either. His head whirled as his mind fought with his body. His muscles screamed for him to run; none of this seemed right, it was all terribly wrong. He wanted to help the caravan of villagers, especially his father. But he had already left them behind and his mind wanted him to stay. It knew this was where he needed to be. Even if he could have made a run for it, he doubted he would have made it far. He had just now noticed that many of the horsemen held bows as well as swords. Regeric broke the wordless silence.

"What do you want from us?" Regeric regretted his decision immediately.

The helmetless man's head swiveled to look at Regeric faster than he had thought possible. Regeric felt the same uneasy feeling when Truk had stared at him in the The Golden Eagle. A feeling as if the man was staring straight through his head at the fiery massacre behind him. After the man had gazed as Regeric for several long seconds he spoke, but not to them.

"Reveal the Coimeado." At his last word, Regeric felt his skin prickle.

A quiet commotion rose from the horsemen as they leaned from their saddles to whisper in each other's ear. The man glanced back at his riders for a second and they fell silent, returning to their proper positions. He then turned his head back, a small smile on his face as he seemed to reexamine Regeric and Fitch. He heeled his horse closer and made a half circle around the three of them. He looked a tad dissatisfied but still held a smile upon his face. Regeric wanted to run away now more than ever!

The dark man squeezed his black warhorse between Firefox and Fitch's mount, facing his men. His giant horse stood several hands taller than Firefox. He reached out and grabbed Regeric's wrist with his left hand. Regeric jerked his hand away quickly when the man reached for it but he could not escape the man's gauntleted hands. His grip was strong and the steel of his gauntlets seemed unreasonably warm! The man held Fitch's hand in his other hand as he raised them both to the sky, almost pulling both of the boys from their saddles. He yelled back to his men in his deep, scratchy voice.

"The Coimeado!" The men on the horses let out a yell that pierced the night itself. They shook their fists in the air. Some pulled swords from their scabbards and twirled them in the air like lassos. Yells went up from all around as more men without horses emerged from the trees. Regeric saw additional men exit the tents behind him and join the group. As one, the armored men bent down to one knee, heads bowed. The horsemen had even stepped down from their mounts to take a knee as well. He looked to his right and saw the same look of confusion and fear on Fitch's face that he imagine covered his own. Arian shivered and clung tighter than ever to Fitch's back. Regeric was sure these men were mistaken. He was not this "Coy-whatever" they spoke of, and he didn't want to be.


End file.
